


Pinned to the Mist

by hello_imasalesman



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Edgeplay, M/M, PWP, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:26:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24094294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hello_imasalesman/pseuds/hello_imasalesman
Summary: The boundaries of Charon’s contract affords him and Vaultie some unique ways to have fun. PWP
Relationships: Charon (Fallout)/Lone Wanderer, Charon (Fallout)/Male Lone Wanderer
Comments: 1
Kudos: 69





	Pinned to the Mist

Charon’s hands flex uselessly, curling his fingers to his palms, his wrists pinned back against the quilt as if tacked. But they’re not. He’s bound by nothing except Vaultie’s words, lowly spoken as he shifted Charon’s wrists against the bed, arranged them above his head: “Keep these here. Do not lift your arms.” And that’s not a problem. It’s a simple command, easily understood. Charon can obey it, normally, without batting an eye.

Except Vaultie is straddling his hips. He’s already had to watch him prepare himself. Dripping lube against his thigh. Charon’s breathing is labored. Heavy, as Adam teases himself with the head of Charon’s cock. Only shallowly entering him, but not quite getting his head past the rim; and Adam’s been doing it for some time now, grinding down, breathy and flushed, a rocking motion that’s slowly starting to drive him mad.

Charon’s sure most humans don’t have the ability to do this, but Adam’s thighs afford him the energy and dexterity to lift himself above Charon, grind down but never tire enough to sit. His stamina, born from hours of crouching and stalking in his _hei gui_ , is a blessing and a curse. It’s those brief moments— nearly, _nearly_ pushing into him, and each time Charon thinks he’s going to finally go that extra inch, that his body will finally relent, and each time he pulls back. He has not been this hard in a long time; he thinks he has been hard like this for practically a half-hour, but that seems too long. He is not one to lose his sense of time, not on purpose. But the clock face in their Megaton bedroom seems blurred by sensation, Adam’s head blocking the way as he throws it back and moans. 

Charon thinks he’s proportionate. But he wouldn’t demure if asked, if he had to describe Adam, the way he looks when he’s sitting on his lap; the way Vaultie’s brow creases and his lips part as he tenses, and then slides down, _down_ every inch of him with a flutter of lashes and a broken groan. They always use enough lubrication that they have to change the sheets after; Adam still whines, mumbles medically impossible nonsense that he can _feel_ him deeper than is possible, that still makes Charon’s gut clench with want.

Like now: “Charon—“ Adam’s curls are plastered with sweat against his forehead; his abdominals are shivering, leaking cock bobbing as he swivels his hips. Grinds down— not fully. And Charon’s hands clench and flex and he wants, wants, _wants_. Wants to grab Adam’s hips and hear the broken noise he makes, give them both what they want. He wonders, if Adam commanded him to cum, if he could, mostly untouched save his swollen, over-sensitive head. “G-god.... _Charon_ —“

 _Do not lift your arms_ , Charon repeats it like a mantra, eyelids drooping as Vaultie squirms on top of him. He has a hand around the base of his shaft, holding him steady enough to tease his head. To fuck himself on him in the shallowest of ways. _Do not lift your arms._

Charon keeps his wrists against the quilt. Adam is too entranced, stuck in his own head and pleasure to notice Charon shift his legs, feet pressing flat against the bed. He digs his heels against the bedding, a counterweight to the heaviness of his wrists against the bed.

It gives him enough leverage that when Vaultie grinds, Charon thrusts, hips snapping up; and he’s lined up perfectly, sliding in so satisfyingly he swears there’s a _pop_ when the head of his cock finally breaches and Adam takes him entirely. Wide-eyed, Adam’s lips part in a silent groan; he slumps forward against Charon’s chest as his hips futilely grind up into him, hampered by his weight pinning him to the bed.

“Let me fuck you,” Charon’s voice is gravel in his throat, blunt nails biting into his palms, enough to mark. His hips are no longer touching the bed, thrusting up as he can into Adam with what feels like nearly all of his weight on top of him, “Adam, Adam—“

“Please,” Adam practically slurs against Charon’s chest, red-faced and wrecked, knowing commands need to be specific: “F-fuck me— use your hands, please use your hands, please, _pl-please_ —“

Like a loaded spring Charon snaps, hands flying to the softness of Vaultie’s side; he grips him hard, thrusting up, up. And after so long of teasing, of wanting, the ferocity of it goes right to his head, the slick tightness of him gripping at him. Adam mewls brokenly against his chest, mouths against his ruined skin, hips futilely twitching. He’s boneless, useless from all of the time he took to tease him, all energy spent. 

Charon pulls out before he cums; he never finishes in him, the radiation too strong. (Though he’s sure after this is all over, from the amount of precum that had been leaking from him, smeared against Adam’s skin, they’ll have to be tender during cleanup.) He’s close enough he doesn’t even have to stroke himself to finish, spurting against the boney curve of Adam’s back as he gasps at the sudden lack of anything in him. There’s a wetness striped across Charon’s stomach; he’s not sure when Vaultie came, slumped over and panting, forehead pressed against his breast bone. Charon strokes a hand up and down his back, his breath evening out. Vaultie kisses his chest, once, twice, mumbles sleepily against the flayed leather of his skin.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! i appreciate all your comments and kudos. tumblr: @civilization-illstayrighthere


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